The Dork Knight
by I am the Poptart
Summary: The Batman has returned once again to protect the citizens of Danville from the rising dangers that have been hitting them lately. The issue? His name isn't Bruce. It's Albert.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER I: Dangerville?

**Poptart Warnings: This is actually considerably violent. And not punching-and-kicking violent, but rather "are-we-even-thinking-bout-the-same-show" violent.**

"All I'm saying is that you should be able to walk to the bank by yourself."

Albert was trekking along the street with Irving, who had a large piggybank in both hands. His younger brother glared up at him.

"It's a dangerous endeavor!" Irving exclaimed. "You don't know what could ever happen to a charming little boy with an armload of cash."

"Then I guess we won't ever know, and for two reasons: A, there are no charming little boys around here; and B, we're in Danville."

"Whaddaya mean, 'we're in Danville'?" Irving asked. Albert snorted.

"Oh, poor, naive little Irving. Don't you know? Outside of Phineas and Ferb, nothing ever actually happens around here." Irving raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? And what are the fantastic adventures of the boarding school?"

"I'll have you know that Timmy Eberhardt threw up on Mrs. Shannalski _twice_ last year, and Reginald Jackswell punched the shop teacher in his gut!" Albert replied indignantly. "It's just as fascinating as this place, and more so than it'd be without those couple of kids." Irving gasped.

"Lies! There is nothing as interesting as Phineas and Ferb!"

"_Sure_ there isn't." Albert said in a taunting voice. "Oh, look, we're at the bank. Better be careful, _Ir_-_ving_, or else somebody might want to take the charming boy's cash. Are you worried?"

"As a matter of fact, I am." Irving said nonchalantly, blowing a raspberry at his brother.

Everything decided to happen as things would normally go—wait in line for too long, get to the front desk, make a deposit. Actually that last part was a bit problematic, because the minute Albert and Irving got there, somebody else had entered the bank. And that somebody kept his hand behind his back. As soon as everyone turned away, there was suddenly the sound of a gunshot, and then a shattering sound, screaming, and static, along with a shower of sparks from directly above Irving. Albert barely managed to pull him away from danger, shoving him behind his back and shielding him with his own body. Right then, the lights went off. A great panic swept through the bank.

There came a demand from the middle of the darkness that everybody got down on the floor, and then that the particular person that spoke would have money put in their bag. Irving practically threw himself on the ground, but Albert didn't even budge. Maybe he was shocked into a frozen state. Perhaps he had been swept over by a wave of courageous defiance that refused to allow him to get to the floor. And then there was always the possibility that Albert was simply a complete idiot.

"Hey, nimrod!" The man who had demanded that money be put in his bag exclaimed. "You better not be standing! I CAN TELL WHEN YOU'RE STANDING!"

Albert still just stood there.

"What part of 'get down' did you not understand?"

Yep, still standing.

"Alright, funny-man, here's the deal—get down or little Porky in front of you here gets a lead filling!"

Albert lay down as flat as he could. Irving turned to him.

"Are you nuts?" He whispered. "You could've—"

"HEY," The man cut him off, "SHUT UP!"

Long minutes later, there was the quick light of the door to the bank being opened, followed by the sound of the man shuffling out. Everybody slowly began to stand up, and gradually began chattering until they were just below panicking again. The female clerk quickly pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911. Somebody pulled out a flashlight and started to scan the room with it. When the light caught the two boys, Albert quickly looked to the side and saw that his brother was still on the floor. His face was flat against the marble and he was whimpering.


	2. Chapter 2

**Poptart Notes—Maya Serena: At the very least, they'll need a decent washing. If you were a little boy and all of a sudden there was a bank robbery in Serenity-Land, and you were smack dab in the middle, you'd be scared too!**

**Alright, readers, wherever you may be, I know you're out there! And wherever you may be, let it be known that I'm an attention-craving little nuisance! Reviews! Leave me some! I don't care if you're burning with pure apathy, or if you need to give me scathing criticism, I must haves it…**

CHAPTER II: Fear

It was a long while before anybody even felt that it was remotely safe enough to venture out. It was only after the police had arrived and the clerk had begun explaining everything to them that the crowd began to thin.

"Irving. Irving, get up." Albert shook his little brother's shoulder. After a second or two, he looked up, with a face full of worry. "Are you alright?" Irving gave a weak nod as his brother helped him up from the floor. "Come on, we're leaving."

They didn't really have far to go. The minute they stepped out, an old blue minivan had pulled up front. It belonged to their mother, who rolled down the window and cried, "Irving! Albert! Get in the car, now!"

"I heard about it—it's already on the news—I was so scared—I am so scared!" She continued her babbling even as her sons were getting in the car. "I don't even believe it's happening. I know crime is a real thing, of course. I just never thought it could happen in Danville!"

/

It was the following afternoon when the doorbell to the Flynn-Fletcher residence was rung. There was no answer. Irving pushed the button again. Nothing. Albert began pounding on the door.

"Open up! It's just us! We couldn't hurt anybody if we tried!" At this, the mail slot in the door opened from the inside, revealing a pair of large blue eyes.

"So you admit that you'd try?" Candace asked dryly.

"Just open the door."

"Why? What are you here for?" Candace questioned. Albert sighed.

"We are here because my little brother has been sitting in his room for four days doing nothing but looking out his window and babbling about how he's watching for suspicious behavior and I'm fairly certain that your brothers can make him happy again and _for Pete's sake woman open the door you are deepening his trauma!_" He answered in a single breath.

There was the sound of a lock clicking before Candace swung the door open for them.

"Fair enough." She replied. Suddenly, a sharp yell rang out from the next room.

"CANDACE! Who did you just let in?" It demanded. The speaker walked into the room, hands on her hips.

"Mom, it's just Irving and Albert. Irving wants to see Phineas and Ferb." Linda relaxed to this just a slight bit.

"Oh. Alright." Irving turned and ran out of the room and up the stairs, though maybe not out of the anticipation of seeing his idols, but maybe out of general skittishness. Linda then turned to Albert and asked, "Well, what'll you be doing, then?" The boy shrugged.

"Loiter around the house?"

"Seems like a bit of a waste." Linda tried to make herself seem calm by chuckling. However, it still came off as a bit nervous. "Tell you what. I was in the middle of cleaning up the kitchen, but I have to go check on how the boys are doing. If you and Candace could take care of that for me, that'd be wonderful—you two can get better acquainted." And, without even waiting for a significant response, she darted up the stairs.

Candace sighed.

"Well, I'm stuck with you for the next forty or so minutes." She muttered.

"Hey, you're not the guy that just walked into someone else's house and instantly got assigned—" Albert suddenly broke his rant off short. "Forty minutes?"

"Yeah. She's been darting upstairs to check on them every eighteen seconds, and it's, like, an hour before she comes back down." Candace explained as they went into the kitchen.

"Uh, an hour is _sixty_ minutes." Albert pointed out. As a response, a dishrag was thrown at his face. "What?"

"I don't think you grasp the issue here. After what happened yesterday, Mom is worried sick about those boys. You know what happens in Danville besides their shenanigans? Up until yesterday, zip. Her biggest fear is losing them."

"Oh, I don't grasp the issue!" Albert said indignantly as he began to rub down the counter. "Maybe you didn't know this, but _I was at the bank yesterday! I had to pull my little brother away from a bunch of shattering glass!_ Pardon me, but it's not like I'm not worried. I know that nothing is supposed to _happen_ here in Happy-Doo-Da-Ville! _GOOD GRAVY, THIS LITTLE SPECK WILL NOT COME OFF!_" He spontaneously yelled at the surface of the counter.

"Calm down, nerdy." Candace said. "I'm pretty sure that this incident caught all of Danville off guard."

"What makes you pretty sure?"

"Albert, they've been running the 'How to Properly Panic' emergency procedure on Channel Six for the past thirty-five hours. That's a pretty good sign they're shocked."

There was a brief moment of silence between the two.

"Uh, where's that platypus-type-thing that you've got around here?" Albert finally asked.

"Perry? I don't know where he goes every day."

/

Perry was in his underground lair, where, as we all know, he usually spent the majority of his day. However, today, he was getting the news that he wasn't going to be there for long.

"We're sorry, Agent P. But we're afraid that we won't be sending you out for the next few weeks. We won't risk losing a good agent to some dastardly criminals like the one that your fine city saw yesterday." Monogram shook his head. "Normally, we'd send you out after Doofenshmirtz if he was doing something but, well, let's face it—he's not really as dangerous as that other guy. Plus, we've got footage of what he's been doing all morning at his establishment. Take a look."

The footage cut over to the D.E.I building. There was a quick zoom in on one window, where the scientist could be seen darting at the window, with a bucket of nails, a hammer, some planks and a terrified facial expression. He nailed boards over the window at nearly the speed of light. The camera then cut back to Monogram.

"See? He's scared, too! Again, Agent P., we are truly and deeply sorry, but you have to continue to dwell as a mindless domestic pet for these few weeks. Dismissed." The platypus would've sighed if he could, but he couldn't, so he merely saluted his officer and returned to the elevator.


	3. Chapter 3

**Poptart Notes—Maya Serena: It's the same principle at work. Danvilleans didn't think that there was ever going to be anything with them beyond grass. And milk. And also smiles.**

**Read and review, people, please. If you don't,**_** I'll never stop annoying you...**_

CHAPTER III: Terror to an Extreme Degree

The platypus wandered into the room, but with his eyes downcast (even in his pet mode), he gave off a dejected air. Candace, having heard his tiny footsteps, glanced down and saw him.

"Oh, well, there he is." She knelt down and gave him a somewhat playful thump on the head. "Alright, you flea-ridden beaver-thing, listen up. No more going outside for a while. The whole town's in a frenzy, and the boys wouldn't want you getting trampled by a panicking mob or something." Perry seemed to glare at her. Good for him; he had even less to do now.

By this point, Albert was at an all-out-war with the countertop.

"Alright, speck-boy, I've had enough of you. You think you're so smart…sittin' there…bein' a speck…all speckish…well, this battle ends NOW, ya hear? I've got a mind to put some steel-wool all over your stupid existence…" Candace raised an eyebrow.

"I'm guessing that you just really, _really_ don't get out much. Just don't touch the counter with that steel-wool. It'll scratch the surface up."

"But then the speck will win!"

"I said _don't. Touch. It_." Candace said, firmly enunciating each word. Albert sighed.

"Fine." Candace rolled her eyes.

"And everyone thinks _I'm_ crazy."

/

"Boys?" Linda timidly opened the door to her sons' room. "Are you boys alright?" Phineas looked over to where she stood.

"Mom? Back up again? We're fine." Linda gave her son a weary look before walking over and patting him on the head.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Phineas. I'm just so scared." She sniffed a bit.

"Aw, mom, we're worried, too." Phineas replied. To this, he was pulled into an embrace by his mother, who motioned for Ferb to come over as well.

"Oh, boys! I wish I wasn't smothering you, but after yesterday…I'm afraid to take chances. I mean, what if that crazy guy was here instead of at the bank? I could never lose you two boys. You're the world to me…" She sniffled a bit more before looking up to see Irving, who simply stood there in the middle of the room.

"Irving, you're a nice boy, too."

"Don't mind me; I'm fine with being in the background." Irving replied calmly.

/

"The speck. Will not. Leave." Albert deadpanned, staring straight ahead of him.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, just leave it. We've got the rest of the kitchen clean." Candace said.

"Fine." Albert threw his rag into the sink before following Candace into the living room. Taking the remote, Candace clicked the television on. There, on Channel Six, was the PPP (Proper Panicking Procedure).

"…Step Six. Instigate screams. Make certain screams resemble those of terror rather than joy in order to make it perfectly apparent that you are panicking. Step Seven. Put arms into the position where they are directly above your head. Make certain that they are straight. Step Eight…"

"Wow." Albert finally said. Candace sighed.

"I told you."

Suddenly, the feed was cut, and it switched to a newswoman sitting at her desk.

"We interrupt this program to bring you an emergency news report. The video you are about to see may disturb you. Viewer discretion is advised."

"Oh good." Albert muttered, only to be shushed by Candace.

What followed made them both want to retch.

/

"So," Linda asked after regaining her composure, "what have you boys been doing?" Phineas turned his eyes to the floor.

"We were just wishing that that guy never even came to Danville." Ferb nodded, and his mother smiled.

"I think we all do, Phineas."

"_MOM!_" Candace's voice suddenly came up from the foot of the stairs.

"_CANDACE!_" Linda cried back as she flew down the stairs. Noticing the boys standing behind her on the steps, she then said, "Go back up there!" They obeyed.

"What's happening? What's happening?" She asked repeatedly. By the time Candace had pulled her into the living room, Albert was still sitting on the couch, face buried in a throw-pillow.

"Look at this." Candace told her in a grave tone. Linda turned to the television set.

"…Occurred at seven-thirty P.M last evening, a similar robbery had occurred in the city of Wilcox at the exact same time. And, today, at the Googolplex Mall, yet another robbery occurred in the J&J Clothiers. However, the cashier refused to give money to the perpetrator, which led to a tragic result."

And the television then cut back to the footage—a very blurry image of a man with the woman at gunpoint. A few seconds of yelling and a more timid voice. An expletive, and,

BANG.

Linda gasped. She darted back up the stairs before she could even hear the rest.

"Senior Criminal Analyst John Kempf has issued a statement, saying that he theorizes that these crimes were all linked, and that the criminals may all be members of a single group. None of the perpetrators have been found, nor are there any existing descriptions. A conference is scheduled for the city council tomorrow at four o'clock P.M."

Albert bit his lip and looked over at Candace. She looked like she was going to cry.

/

"_PHINEAS! FERB! SHUT THE BLINDS AND LOCK THE WINDOW! NOW!" _Linda did not merely open the door. She swung it in with such vigor that it left a ding in the wall it slammed into. Phineas and Ferb carried the order out swiftly.

"Mom? Mom, what's happening?" Phineas' voice trembled a little, but his mother ignored him as she grabbed Irving by the wrist.

"Irving, you're going home—no, no, wait." She quickly let go of his wrist. "No, no, I'll call your mother. Don't move. And that goes for all of you!" She raced back down the stairs and picked up the phone.

"Albert, give me your mom's number, now!" Linda cried. "And where is Perry?" Candace picked up the platypus as he wandered by.

"Right here."

In a few seconds, Linda was chattering away in nervousness to Irving and Albert's mother.

"Hello? Grace? Grace, did you see the news—I know—yes—get over here as quickly as you can. I don't care! Get over here! You can't just leave them with me!" She slammed the phone onto the receiver. She then turned to her daughter and demanded, "Candace, lock the windows and draw the curtains. I'll get the doors."

"What can I do?" Albert finally piped up.

"Stay put!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Poptart Notes: You may have noticed I've been gone a while. Have you noticed? Then shame on you. Shame on you for being such a…notice-er.**

/

Chapter Four: Archie

/

The rest played out much as you'd expect it to. The little nerd-duo's mother flew right over to the Flynn-Fletchers' in a panicking way, then proceeding to practically tear her boys out of there. Albert, however, did manage to rip away for one second to tell Candace that he really wished the panic would die down.

It was really a strange thing when it actually happened a month later.

Several more robberies occurred throughout Danville and the surrounding counties over the next thirty days, and so, it gained a certain frequency. People started to decide, then—it didn't matter. Slowly but surely, things returned to their normal state, and children were soon enough back to their daily activities of clogging the parks and sidewalks and department stores. Phineas and Ferb themselves were a bit more cautious—on their first day adjusting back to a kind of schedule, their creation was not much bigger than the oak out back. Irving was beginning to return his focus to idolizing the pair, but he always tried to stay as close to the house, whenever there was one, as possible; he also started refusing to go beyond the backyard.

Albert was himself, having displayed too little of a personality thus far to change. He was only really worried about Irving, and he seemed to be doing fine, minus his slight paranoia contracted by the incident. Nonetheless, all these happenings helped him determine that the world would indeed be ending soon—if even Danville could cease caring about the crime-rate like the rest of the nation's cities, it had to be.

Since crime had been scattered out more in the surrounding county for the last week, Grace also felt more comfortable with sending her older son out to do things for her, regardless of whether he even wanted to do it, and he never did. Something about waiting in a checkout line made him feel restless and moronic. Either way, he was presently doing exactly that. He was currently contemplating the possibility of bashing the heads of everybody ahead of him in order to get in front when a familiar voice reached him—"Oh, your mom likes the generic coffee?"

Albert yanked the bag away from Candace.

"Well, it costs less." He looked around the store briefly, trying to decide how to put what he wanted to say. "So…" He drew out the word. "Everybody's doing okay, huh?"

"We still do care a little bit." Candace's reply came almost immediately. "Just not to the point where we're all willing to run in circles like headless chickens." Albert was half-stunned.

"How did you figure out what I was thinking?" He demanded. Candace shrugged.

"You're an open book, I guess." She replied. "A pasty-white open book with a strange sort of mullet comb-over."

"This takes several hours and much effort to do, just so you know." Albert started defensively, pointing at his 'do. "Secondly…it's weird."

"Anybody with eyes can see that about you." Candace gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"I'm not talking about my hair!" He exclaimed before she could say anything else. "It's the…the lack of panic or acknowledgement." Candace raised a brow.

"I specifically remember you having to literally _push_ your mom away just so you could tell me that you wish people would stop caring."

"Well, yes, I suppose that I did." Albert shifted his weight onto one leg uncomfortably. "I didn't think that…uh…I guess I just got used to it."

"Aww, you miss the hysteria in your boring life!" Candace cooed with more than a hint of sarcasm. Albert, in turn, fought back an amused grin.

"True though that may be, it just feels misplaced. Like…" He paused, snapping his fingers a bit and trying to come up with the right phrase. "Like…foreshadowing!" Candace rolled her eyes.

"Spoken like a true nerd." She sighed.

"Yes, yes it was."

/

The only real hysteria of the daytime was trying to keep his patience whilst dealing with the most incompetent clerk in the history of Danville. Albert trudged home alone, and just to give injury and insult at once, the cloud banks broke right in the middle of his plodding, making it so that he would have to return home waterlogged. The rain hadn't been forecasted.

To add some more insult to his already offended injury, the door was bizarrely locked when Albert actually reached the stupid thing. After three minutes of mental swearing, fiddling with the handle, and mulling over the idea of knocking it in, he finally became aware of the fact that there was an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway. Albert stared at the large white sedan for a few seconds. He couldn't even guess who owned the thing. At a loss, he finally resorted to ringing the doorbell like a—_ugh—_ normal person.

Albert could hear some small chatter going on from behind the door even before it was opened. When the locks finally clicked and his mother allowed him in, he didn't even give so much as a "hey" as he briskly stepped in, whipping off his soggy jacket at laying it over the coat rack. He dropped his grocery bag on the floor near Grace ("I love you too, Al.") and made his way into the kitchen. Sitting at the counter before him was a man he didn't recognize in the slightest.

The man, dressed in the beige suit of a business man and sipping coffee from a mug, seemed to be the same age as his mother. He had a full head of light brown hair, slicked back as well as it could be, and rather jubilant, smiling blue eyes. He heard Albert as he clopped on in, turning to see the boy confused and staring at him from the entryway. Despite the suspicious looks he earned from Albert, the man stood up, grinning, and walked up to the boy.

"Well, now!" The man declared. His voice was a clear and pleasant tenor. "Ms. McAllister, may I ask who this fine boy is?" Albert's mother came back into the kitchen at the man's call, smiling and giggling.

"This is my older son, Albert." She explained, placing a hand on his shoulder as she introduced him. She then spoke to her son, "Albert, this is our landlord, Clint Archdale. I happened to run into him today at the Farmer's Market before the rain started, and I brought him back for some coffee."

Albert's facial expression in reply to this was pure "WHY?" If he was going to actually ask questions, however, he had no time to do so, as new Archdale had suddenly grabbed his hand in a firm grip and was currently pumping his arm up and down.

"Well! A nice young man he seems to be!" He declared. "You can't possibly be trying to tell me he's _yours_, can you?"

At this point, Albert's mother had to place a hand in front of her mouth to contain her laughter. Albert, himself, decided to take the hurried-politeness approach, in order to get out and up to Irving more quickly—did he know anything about this?

"Yes, this is my mother, and therefore, I am her son." He stated frankly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. If you'll excuse me for now, I'm going up to my room."

On that note, Albert turned on heel and rushed up the stairs. Even as he did so, he could hear his mother's giggling becoming more frequent and uncontrolled as he advanced. And when he reached the top step, he could hear her saying "Oh, Archie, stop it!"

Albert held back his urge to gag.


	5. Chapter 5

**Poptart Notes: Going to be on Spring Break soon, so no updates for a while. We're heading towards a darker end in the story, just to warn you…**

/

Chapter 5: Stains and Other

/

Albert rattled with his brother's doorknob. The universe, on this day, had made up its mind that he would not be permitted to get any sort of door to operate properly, as it did not budge. He grunted in frustration, resting his arm against the door and then his forehead on that. He couldn't just shove the door down again. He wasn't particularly in the mood for that, and Irving had been shut-in most of the day. The very least Albert could do was try to care.

Albert sighed and, with a bit of annoyance, knocked lightly on his brother's door.

"Irving?" He called. "Open up, will ya?"

As if in reply, the door swung open unceremoniously. To Albert's surprise, Irving glared right up at him in an irritated, almost defiant way. His shirt was orange.

"What?" He spat out gruffly. Albert raised his hands in innocence.

"Well, good morning to you!" He exclaimed. He led himself in and flopped down into the chair next to the computer. Irving's glare didn't falter once during that, but it didn't even seem to be directed towards his sibling. "So," Albert asked casually, "Have you seen that fruit-type character downstairs yet?"

"Don't talk about him!" Irving groaned almost instantly. "I'm sick of that dweeb's face already."

"Again, good morning to you." Here, Albert finally noticed the little heap of blue shirt on the floor. "Why the sudden wardrobe change?"

Irving snatched up the shirt from the floor. "I…uh…I got a food stain on it."

"Really?" Albert asked, one brow raised. Irving shrunk back a bit.

"Yes?"

"Alright then." Albert shrugged and left the room, leaving his brother alone for the rest of the evening.

Irving sighed and unfolded his previous shirt, trying to force himself to look again at the large splash of mahogany across the back and left shoulder. Everything at level with his chest and above was burning terribly, and he felt very stiff in the spine. Shrugging and shaking his head, he went to the bathroom to see if he could try and wash the visible blood out in the sink. All the while, he was silently thanking God that his brother was such a gullible idiot.

/

Albert still had one thing to be proud of; and that was that he was the biggest library nerd in Danville. Today, he was particularly glad to be out of the house, as "Archie" had returned, with the intent to do "business" with his mother (which Albert was half-certain they didn't even want him to be nearby for). Currently, he was hunched over in a single corner, on the banks of the Hanson Kingdom and waiting to strike with his captain. Over the pages of the book, he could see outside the window that took up most of the left wall—it was already nine fifty-six, and Albert swore that he was the only person who the janitor had ever tossed the keys to and told "lock up when you're done". Yet, even with as dark as it was at that time of night, Albert could still make out a tall, slim figure outside the building. He seemed to pull out a watch from his pocket, examine it, and then tuck it back into his coat before reaching into one of the pockets of his trousers. Albert could see, vaguely, that it seemed to be two objects—a sort of a cellular and something else. He watched as the man talked into the phone, able to hear his muffled speech, while he saw him mess around with the second object. It was rectangular, and had a long, thin rod pointing up out of the end of it. After a few more moments of indiscernible speaking, the man outside put his phone away and extended the device toward the window.

With a faint twinge of horror, Albert felt that the man was staring right at him.

The next thing he knew, there was a small clicking from the switch on the object being pressed down. Then, the world around him was an expanse of vicious burning flame, which seized up the room in a deafening, crackling roar, with deplorable heat pressing in on all sides.

Albert had been caught in the first torching of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Poptart Notes: Hoo, may be going a bit quick with this. Oh well. Action taim!**

/

Chapter 6: Merely Some Medicinal Magic

/

Smoke came flooding in an instant, pouring down Albert's throat, choking and blinding him. The sudden shock of being caught in the inferno threw him to his knees as he fought for air. He inched forth on the ground, nonetheless, just out of his need to live. He continued forth until there was a small cracking beneath his fingertips, followed by a soft cutting feeling into his palm. Albert quickly pulled his hand back, sensing that he'd sliced himself on the broken glass (though he was only assuming, not being able actually see through his own tears).

After this, Albert quickly deducted that this meant he was very close to this window. Staggering back onto his feet, he stumbled through the smoke for about a yard, sputtering the whole way. Eventually, both of his hands felt their way into the window's frame, while getting further cut on the remaining glass in the process. Heedless of it, Albert heaved himself out of it to land into the grass face-first. The relief that he had been expecting from the blazing library, which was still crackling and venomously hot behind him, was not present. Rather, the outside world was about twice as hot and ridden with smoke.

This time, Albert couldn't be pried from his knees. Dragging himself and hacking hard, he attempted to crawl back in the general direction of his home. He had almost gone a yard when he heard the explosion of a gun, then feeling a severe pain overtake the back of his arm. Finally shooting back up, he made a mad dash in the direction he was going in, one hand clasped over his gunshot wound. He felt the blood running out between his fingers and out into the open air, and he heard presumably the same gun firing at him several more times behind him (thankfully missing), and the sound of several buildings going up to roaring fire.

Thankfully, as he went on, the gunfire ceased and the fires weakened until he came back into Maple Street. Gasping for air, Albert thanked God and rubbed the tears from his eyes with a slightly-singed coat-sleeve. He changed his pace to a slow trot as he approached his home. As he did so, he groggily went about wondering how to inform his mother of the bullet wound in his arm without her becoming panicked.

Albert vaguely realized that his glasses were too spotted with tears to see out of. He tore them from his face and chucked them unceremoniously over his shoulder, allowing them to stay on the ground. He should've been more panicked. He knew that. A gunman and arson pretty well implied horrible things. Still, he couldn't bring himself to move any faster.

"Just a moment of your time!" That voice in particular, the familiar one from earlier that week, however, was able to bring him to a jog. Squinting and straining, he could hardly make out the beige business suit, standing in front of the length of bright red hair.

"Get out of my way." Candace demanded, trying to step from side to side to make it to her home. Yet, with each time she did it, Archdale was right back in her way again. He grinned it that unsettling way and prattled on,

"It won't even take thirty seconds, my young little lady!"

"I don't HAVE one second." Candace attempted to jerk her arm from Arch's iron grip. She failed in this, however, and this time she was pulled back hard and forced onto the ground. Quick as a flash, Archdale produced a syringe, which was filled to the brim with an odd yellow liquid, from his rear pocket.

"But, my dear, it is only an experiment. I assure you that it is perfectly safe."

And, a breath's time right after "safe", Arch was sent face-first to the ground.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: He's a Killer

/

There was absolutely nothing, repeat, NOTHING on the face of the Earth that would possibly be able to compete with the disturbing smile that Arch now gave. Not a single thing about it was natural, from the way it slowly spread across to how it seemed to nearly stretch beyond his eyes.

It was the only thing that shone through in Albert's partial blindness. Shuddering, he took almost stepped off of his captive's back, and only Candace hissing for him to stay put stopped him from doing so.

"My goodness, Albert, dear boy," Arch chuckled in the disgusting, slimy way of his, "What are you trying to pull?"

"Knock it off." Albert grimaced, grabbing Arch by the scruff of his sports coat, which was the same bland shade of beige, and hoisted him off. "What was in that syringe, and why were you aiming for Candace?"

"Candace?" The smile would've broadened if it were possible. "Is that this pretty little jewel's name?"

As a reply, Candace made her hand into a fist and swung, getting Arch directly in his throat. The force of her impact was so hard that it forced both Albert and the ever-grinning man to stagger backwards. The teenaged captor's jaw slightly dropped in awe at the fact that the sweet, sarcastic girl next door would have such courage...

Excellent.

"What was it?" She cried. "You better answer that right freaking now..."

And here there was the god-awful laugh. It started off so softly for just a second, right before just rocketing into a painful, hoarse, vile sound that rang throughout the neighborhood. As he did this, Archdale's head slowly tilted back...to glare up at Albert with the no-longer-gentle blue eyes.

The boy's elbows were then hooked into his opponent's. Now that the captor was the conquered, Archdale whipped Albert clean over his head with a single clean swing, causing him to crash against the concrete walk with a sharp crack. Quickly, Arch slammed his elbow into the chest of the teenager, knocking the wind straight out of him.

"You're one special kind of idiot, ya know?" The man sneered while Albert struggled, his voice drastically and horrifyingly changed. He whistled sharply now, and the man that had been seen outside of the library window now appeared. He was very tall and thin, and yet, he seemed to have an odd shape to him. He seemed to be thicker at the top, getting thinner as the body descended. While his neck was no thicker than a piece of piping, his shoulders were as wide and broad as an open field, and he had a chest like a barrel. From that point down, however, he was like a slim cone balanced on its tip. It was almost a wonder how he stood upright.

Like Archdale, he wore a suit of a single color, in this instance being white. Now he seemed to be a pale, ghostly thing, from his terribly fair complexion to his bleach-blonde hair, which was composed entirely, it seemed, of sparse, thin wisps. His mouth was clenched shut, lips together forming a purely straight line.

The beige-suited man gave a quick nod to the stranger, who then tossed into Arch's hand an unusual object.

By the base, it resembled a flash drive. However, sticking right out at the top were two short, sharp prongs. Archdale twirled this object in his hand, in the stereotypical way a cowboy would rotate his gun, and Albert suddenly sensed that this...suitor of his mother's...was wielding that object with a deadly accuracy.

And that, whatever it was, it was potentially going to end his life right there.

"I'll ask your little twerp how his stains are doing." Arch jeered, aiming to take the points right through Albert's chest.

And then, his wrist was grabbed, twisted all the way around, flung back to him as he was kicked right into the air.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" Albert hollered. He now stood to his full height, eyes burning with an unpredicted fury. Archdale, on the other hand, had landed perfectly, well-balanced and on both feet, and his only show of discomfort was the way he clutched and twisted his wrist.

"I _said_…" He hissed, "And I quote: 'I'll ask your little twerp how his stains are doing'."


	8. Chapter 8

**Poptart Notes: Yeah, this is mostly pointless exposition. And Candace! More Candace! Yaaaaaay!**

/

Chapter 8: Back into the Fires of Hell

/

That was the key phrase that made Albert go ballistic. With one quick, sweeping motion, he whipped a kick into Arch's abdomen. Rage kept him from feeling pain when the spokes of Arch's device slipped into his kneecap instead of his chest when the man reeled backwards, then landing on the gentleman in white. As a final touch, Albert proceeded to scoop him back up from the ground and deck him in the face. When he dropped him again, Arch was as motionless as a dead man.

"Well..." Albert panted, "That sucked." He sighed for a moment before turning his attention back to Candace. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"ME?" Candace exclaimed. "What about YOU? What were you even doing out to start with while you left your brother home alone with that...jerk?"

"ME? What about YOU?" Albert mimicked. "What are you doing outside when your whole stinkin' family might be in trouble?"

"What are you even talking about anymore?"

"Look over East. Yeah, isn't it kinda cloudy? Big, grey, fast moving clouds?" Albert pointed in the general direction of downtown, while praying that he was correct in guessing that the clouds were present (for he still couldn't see). Thankfully, Candace nodded.

"That's SMOKE. All of downtown is a nice, toasty blaze!" He exclaimed.

"WHAT?" Candace stepped back.

"Yes. So, let's loop all the way back to square one-What are you doing out-"

"Pardon me." A low, silky voice suddenly spoke up. The two teens looked back to find that the pale man in white had stood up and, using an unexpected amount of strength, hoisted Arch over his shoulder.

"Aw, whaddaya want?" Candace groaned, seeming annoyed.

"If you've taken care of the situation, I'll be on my way." He shrugged and walked right past Candace and nearly over Albert when he attempted to block his path.

As the man slunk down the sidewalk and out of view, Candace and Albert watched his back. After he was no longer visible to either, Albert was the first to speak.

"Should I try to stop him or should I just go to bed?" He asked.

"You SHOULD go back into your house and calm your brother down, since he has likely pissed himself in the last fifteen minutes." Candace answered, glaring. Albert whistled a note.

"Yikes, quite the language, milady." He raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about Irving so much for?"

"The kid somehow got a hold of my cell number." Candace sighed. "He's been keeping me updated all night about his terror with dealing with Jerkmaster."

"What did he say was happening?" Albert asked abruptly.

"A lot of yelling downstairs. A couple of busted dishes." Candace answered. "I could hear it on my end."

"Where was he?"

"He kept himself locked in his room all night."

"What did he say happened last?" Albert looked angered by this point.

"He saw the jerk go outside and meet with jerk number two." Candace tried to sound apologetic.

"And you came out to look?"

"It's in front of my house!"

Albert grumbled, having more questions to ask. But when he got back in his house, he could get answers on his own. He patted around his back pocket for his house key, and then suddenly froze. He slowly searched again. Nope.

That key was gone.

Albert growled and kicked the ground. "COME ON!" He exclaimed, looking over his shoulder. Just his stupid luck.

"Where are you going?" Candace cried out as he darted down the sidewalk, going in the same direction as the man in white had.

"HE STOLE MY STUPID KEY!" Albert shouted back. Suddenly, he stopped short. "AND WHAT'D IRVING SAY ABOUT MY MOM?" He hollered.

"Sleeping." Candace yelled back. Albert nearly did a double take. He would've commented on it, but he didn't really have time for that at the moment, so he just resumed running.

/

Candace entered her room, exhausted, just in time to hear her cell ringing. Sighing, she picked it up from the window seat where she'd left it and answered groggily.

"What is it this time?"

"Candace, I saw Albert running off. Where did he go?" Irving asked quietly, as if not to disturb anyone.

"Hell if I know, kid." Candace muttered.

"I have a name."

"Whatever. The point is, your brother just went off after his house key." Candace groaned as she laid herself back on her bed. "So tired..."

"And you just let him go?" Irving exclaimed as quietly as he could.

"Aw, geeze, what can I do? The jerk that took his keys doesn't look dangerous, and YOUR jerk is knocked out cold." Candace explained. As she did, she convinced herself within her mind that Albert would be able to take them down before they got anywhere near fire.

"But Candace-" Irving began.

"What? What can I be missing?"

"Arch can't get knocked out."

Candace sat upright.

"What do you mean?"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Stop Running

Albert was never one for running. Unless his life was on the line, he couldn't go for more than four minutes or so. At this point, after seven minutes of chasing after the man in white, he was becoming winded. Frustrated, he took a deep, staggering breath in and grimaced, using more and more focus to move his legs. Soon, that became all that he could think about. Right leg. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. What...what was he running for again?

It wouldn't be so bad to stop, he thought. He could stop, right? Yes, he could stop now. He could stop. He stopped; he tripped over his own feet and crashed still onto the Earth below.

Here, Arch opened his eyes.

"Is he out?" He murmured to the man in white.  
"He is." The paler man replied in his quiet way. Satisfied with the answer, Arch rolled himself off of his companion's shoulder and landed upon his knees.  
"If he's not, I need to get some work done..." He mumbled to himself as he flicked the boy's cheek. He didn't stir. A sharp slap across the face brought forth nothing.

"Yep, he is." The white man nodded, reiterating his own sediments.  
"Well, then, pick him up. We can't leave the punk lying out there."  
"You have no idea what a punk is, do you, Clint?" The pale man muttered as he picked Albert up, slinging him over his shoulder. To this, Archdale turned slightly and focused on him, glaring sharply. Pained, the other man gripped his head and groaned.  
"Sorry, sorry...just...don't...do that." He sighed.  
"Then don't call me an idiot, Clark." Arch replied. "Come on. We got business."

/

"Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap!" Candace grumbled to herself on loop, peddling furiously down the street on her little bicycle. She was in the twenty-first gear and probably needed to be about in the forty-ninth. Creeps numbers one and two must have been faster than she had expected, and by extent, Albert even moreso. The thin, sickly nerd probably should've been seen already, down on the sidewalk and panting a few blocks behind. But she was still peddling along at her highest rate, and what made it worse was that he had to leave Irving behind and all alone. Did she really like the dork? No, but he was just a kid.

Protect the children; always protect the children...

Dear God, it was getting hazy up there. Candace could see a thick, thick fog over in front of her, straight in the direction she was riding into. Should she turn off? The road went straight ahead. Did they all veer into the grass in their chase? Too little passage between the houses. So she had to go straight on.

In her bustling mind, she tried to remember what Albert had said was happening downtown. It would've been clearer if she hadn't been so panicked, but now, every file in her cabinet had split open and spilled from the drawers, scattered among the floor. All that she knew was danger.

Danger.  
Danger.  
Danger.  
That was the only word in there, beeping and ringing endlessly, much like a siren. But Candace couldn't stop. The lives of approximately two-or three, counting herself-people were on her shoulders. No, four or five. Her brothers. Five, six; her mother. And Lawrence? Were the last two even relying on her? Or Phineas and Ferb. even? Hell, and what about Perry? Candace never realized that there were so many people in her life.

Now, Candace coughed. And coughed. And coughed. Choking? Goodie! In her thoughts, she didn't even realize that she had driven herself right into the thick of the smoke. And thick it was! She had no idea how Albert could run in it. She was blinded with tears, her nostrils stung, her throat ached and longed for pure air. It was unbearable. She'd never had to go through smoke this...smoke...smoke...smoke!

It clicked. It finally clicked in her mind. Well, she wasn't that close to downtown right now, so those fires had to be pretty bad. "And that's where Albert is." She thought. "Down in that fire."

Candace couldn't take it anymore. She lost her balance and fell off the bike, smacking facefirst into the grass. Heaving desperately for oxygen, she pressed her hands to the Earth and shoved her face back up.  
"Dammit."


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: See, the chapter title this time around is ironic because I haven't posted anything in over an eon; dohohohoho.**

Chapter 10: Delayed Reaction

/

When Albert finally awoke, he took in a deep breath upon consciousness. The first thing he was aware of was the quality of the air-deep, damp, and frozen. It rushed down his throat and dug into the walls of his lungs like a horde of wasps. Shaken by waking up, Albert shot upright, perched onto his feet. It was as he squatted down that he became aware that the whole room was like its air-damp and cold. The floor, the walls, and probably the ceiling.

He slid his back against one of the cold walls and breathed the cold air when the next thing occurred to him. The darkness of this room was impenetrable. No matter how long he glared at the black, it never even allowed a dim light. There was not one window and not one door.

The room was about as sealed as it could be, and honestly, it was pretty obvious. The heavy air bared no odor apart from dust and muddy water; certainly, there wasn't any essence of smoke or ash, and not an outside noise could be heard. The silence itself was deafening.

Desperately seeking an exit, Albert stood up to his full height and moved himself forth to run-and fell upon his face. Well, his legs weren't content with properly operating. As he pushed up his face from the floor, he slowly made yet another realization: he had no idea what material this floor was composed of. No grooves, no boards. Not wood. Nor was it tile or any kind of stonework; it was all a large, smooth expanse that seemed to go on forever beyond the wall he slumped against. So, it was some sort of metal...right? It didn't feel hollow. It didn't echo with Albert's footsteps. Every noise was muffled.

It was almost like porcelain.

Albert was currently in a state of growing frustration. He paced the floor aimlessly (well, at least his legs were awake now), beat his head against a wall whenever he reached one, and just muttered curses at nothing. After this turned up nothing, he altered the direction of his wandering and now paced vertically. First down, hit head against the wall, repeat upwards. Odd thing was he never reached a wall that next time. However, he did manage to trip over some barrier before him, causing him to collapse, his teeth smashing against a wooden surface. Albert felt this small area, and, eureka.

Stairs. Now he was getting somewhere.

/

She deserved a world record. She would, anyway-no. Two world records-no, three-no, Phineas and Ferb had already done that. Four. Candace was going to deserve four world records for what she was going to do.

To clarify, Candace had happened to collapse at the very front of the Abbeys. Not literal abbeys, mind you; it was the nickname given to a strait of apartment complexes and boarding homes that started just outside of downtown and ended well beyond it.

For Candace, it would be a pretty ideal path.

When she awoke, she found herself in front of one building. Right from the front edge of it overlooking the sidewalk was an old ladder. Coughing, she leapt up and scrambled up the rungs to the top of the apartment. Tears choked her eyes as she stood up, legs shaking-and what a sight to behold. Vibrant red lips of flame leapt up from the Earth, kissing buildings and lighting them up. It was spreading fast.

And she had to move faster.

Taking in a breath as deeply and sharply as she could, Candace teetered a little bit closer to the edge.

"Jump." The voice inside her head told her-and, pleasantly, it wasn't the zebra this time. "It's not that far."

It really wasn't.

"Jump. Jump."

So, she did.


End file.
